‘Twas five days before Christmas when all through our house,
All creatures were stirring, except for a mouse.
In Naveen’s belly* it rested, all squeezed to a pulp.
(The boys loved watching the snake grab it and gulp.)
The children denied attempts to put them to bed —
Optimus, Bumblebee filling their heads.
And I with my chicken and Eddie with his dog
Had just settled down with some spiked eggnog
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
We sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the front door we flew like a flash.
In our bare feet, we looked like white trash.
Out on the driveway something made our eyes hurt:
The guy next door again wasn’t wearing a shirt.
Then what to our watering eyes did appear,
But a strange being — just whom was not clear.
What this being was bearing gave me pause:
Poorly written signs? Must be Santa Clause!
More rapid than Bob Ross, these signs he produced,
And shouted the many mistakes he deduced:
“No comma! No period! And what’s with the quotes?
A misspelling here – Just see what they wrote!”
To the step of the porch he came with his haul.
“Let’s slash away, slash away, slash away all.”
“Get me your stylebook, and Strunk and White too.
They must learn the difference between whom and who.”
Eddie looked at us and in a manner quite snide,
Said, “You two have at it, I’m going inside.”
And then in a twinkling, I fetched my Mac Air
And my iPhone as a camera to capture signs there.
As I drew closer to my mysterious guest,
I noticed something odd: He was kind of a mess.
He was dressed all in things that I write about
From snack food to rednecks – how’d he find out?
A bundle of Utz chips he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a vendor, just opening his pack.
A mask – just like Batman! His shoes? Birkenstocks!
His jeans were jacked up, Dixie flag as a top!
His mouth was covered in hot cheeto dust
And the beard of his chin was colored like rust.
The stump of a Sharpie he held tight in his yap,
To give to the kids for their skin art crap.
He had a broad face, around which headphones
Blasting some KISS – thank God — not the Stones!
He was chubby and plump – hadn’t been to the gym.
So I suggested that later I’d go there with him.
He winked with his eye, then his head he did nod,
And I knew right then he’d been reading my blog!
We spoke not a word, but went straight to our work.
“If we fix all these signs, does that make us two jerks?”
Laying his writing hand aside of his knee,
He nodded his head, and we laughed with glee!
It took us a while; we edited with passion.
Then he left – but I have loads of blog rations!
I heard him exclaim ‘fore he strode out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good write!”
* Naveen is the ball python we are snake-sitting for the break
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The younger ones wanted to stand on chairs, draw princesses, and talk about Justin Bieber. The older ones wanted to actually work on writing (and smack the younger ones).
Observe and report 